Chapter 3: Remus and the Watch.

Summary:

The Watch gathers to help Remus. Night of the full moon, continued.

Carrot was the first to reach Angua. It would be two hours until the sun rose; whatever happened here, she needed to find clothes before then. He cursed himself that he hadn't brought his satchel with him, as he had a uniform for her. She was sitting in front of a strange wolf, trying to push a piece of raw chicken into his mouth. The new one was laying on his side, not moving except his jaws. As Carrot gently sat down beside Angua, the wolf gulped the chicken. Angua pressed against him and whined. He needed the translator, and luckily Lana was right behind him. She braked to a stop, and dropped Gaspode.

"Hav' a care, lady, these poor bones can't take it." Gaspode scrambled up to his feet and glared.

"Are you sure you're not a talking dog?" She looked desperately at Carrot for answers, but he ignored her.

"Gaspode, tell me what's happened since you left." Carrot scraped a clearing in the cabbage field, started a fire with a flint, and blocked in the fire pit with earth.

Lana frowned at him. Too weird by half. "Is he a werewolf too? A weredog?" she demanded. No-one looked even likely to help her; they were concentrating on the three-way conversation.

Angua whined again, then yipped.

"Cap'n, the wolf is eatin' better. Angua's got him wolfing his food, ha ha, wolfing, but she can't get enuff in him. Sun's gonna come up and he'll shift. If he's not better, see—" Gaspode scratched his ear, then worried a flea colony on his left flank. It was all for show. He was happy with the fleas, had collected an entire set now. "If he's still this bad when the sun comes up, he'll, like, die."

"You've got to be kidding me. I can hear you talking." Lana interrupted. Cheery put a hand on her arm, mouthed, "later."

"No, cours' not, dogs can't talk. Woof Woof Bark Bark good grief. Cap'n, he needs bone soup. Ask her."

"Angua, what do we need to do for him?" Angua jerked her head around as the rest of the Watch joined them. She pawed the huge pail, then the sack of ribs, whined. Gaspode sighed. Humans. S'good job for them he was here.

"Light a fire, crack the bones, give some to the little doggie, crush the bones to bits, then cook them. Sheesh, do I hav' to tell humans how to make soup?"

"I know about the soup." Carrot's voice had an edge. "Does he need anything else?"

Reg and Washpot pushed their way to the front. "We got the bandages." They placed a pile of cloth on the ground; it was almost two feet high. Carrot noticed that Reg had wrapped a small bandage around one of his fingers. The zombie would have to re-attach it when they got back to the Watch House.

Detritus brought the barrel of water and a two-foot wide vat to pour it in, as Nobby and Colon appeared with the ribs and bones. They were already cooked, good, this would save time, Carrot thought.

"Detritus, Angua needs the bones crushed up in little pieces—then put them in the vat."

In five minutes the mound of bones rested in the vat in tiny chips, and Lana was much farther away from Detritus. He grinned and rumbled.

"Trolls always do dat when we catch a human in the mountains. Mak'n' it easy for the bebby trolls, see?"

The rest of the Watch hadn't budged. They all knew he was only trying to frighten her. Carrot caught Detritus's eye and glared. It was normal for the Watch to haze a new Watch member, but not to threaten to eat them. He'd deal with Detritus later. Cheery had brought rocks, and she deposited them in the pit, making a place for the vat. In a few minutes the soup was bubbling. She examined the wolf, shook her head. "He bled all over, but it's stopped now. I have no idea how much he lost. It's amazing he didn't die from that. We should wrap his legs. He may bleed again when we move him. I wish there was a way to get under him to wrap him."

Carrot glanced at the wolf again. Angua was lying with her head pressed as close to him as possible, licking under his chin and rubbing his muzzle.

"Don't mean nuffink, she's just tryin' keep him awake," said Gaspode quickly.

The soup was ready, and Cherry put some in a bowl. The wolf tried to raise his head, but couldn't. He whined and lay back down. Angua whined as well, and pawed at Carrot's leg.

"I'll spoon it into him," said Carrot calmly. He squatted next to Angua, took the wolf's jaw in his hand, and raised a spoon. It was lapped clean. Back and forth, back and forth went the spoon.

Remus was aware of much more by the time a troupe of strange characters rushed up to him. The female werewolf told him they were from the Watch, but she hadn't explained why the different shapes—that one had to be a dwarf—a small sized person with a beard and helmet—but pink ribbons in a beard?

There was a very large man who seemed to be made of rock, an even larger person who looked like a myth from Eastern Europe, ceramic with glowing eyes. All the others were human, and there were no witches or wizards of any kind. Good, he thought, and tried to sleep. The female wolf, Angua, she was Angua, wouldn't let him alone, though. When a delicious broth was placed in front of him he attempted to eat it. Too much pain in his neck, though. He wasn't that surprised when a tall human male with red hair sat down to feed him, though he was startled when he realized his smell had been on Angua's fur. Probably her mate, then. There were no suspicious odors radiating from him, but Angua kept glancing between them.

And I can't explain that I'm married, because I can't lift my head. Or used to be married—where is Tonks now? She never should have come after me. She should have been with Teddy, never been at the battle. We tried to be safe all those months. Where am I? He whined, and lapped another spoonful. What am I going to do when the sun comes up? Oh, I see, they have boards—a door? For a stretcher, to move me somewhere, and those are bandages. Enough, I hope. But my spine is on fire. Dolohov hit me with the avada kedavra, I should be dead.

After eating as much as he could swallow the first time, he lay on his side and let them wrap his legs, and start wiping blood from his fur. He whined when cuts in his skin started to bleed again, though, and they stopped.

The dwarf sat beside him, and carefully felt his spine and neck every few minutes. He knew everything was still broken, but after the first hour of soup they were possibly less tender.

Every time he closed his eyes for more than a few seconds, Angua licked or nipped him. His ears, his nose—she was relentless. She woke him up and her big mate—much larger than Remus—would bring the rich broth to his lips. It took nearly an hour before he could lift his neck up to lap by himself, and then crunch some bones. Now he felt his own shattered bones begin to close. His neck was hurting less. He cautiously arched his back. It didn't stab him with pain; probably healed enough that he could be moved. He could breathe deeper; his ribs had healed. The legs though—they were not much better. It was going to be a race against time, because when the sun broke the horizon, he would shift, and for the first time in his life he wished the night would be longer.

Also, he realized that he was sane, not a monster, and that he had no urge to lunge at anyone. The full moon had not been his enemy. This was a strange place—werewolves must have better lives. What would it be like not to fear himself? He wouldn't have needed to lock himself into the Shrieking Shack. He wouldn't have the scars of his own jaws. The Marauders shared the danger with him and made the night less lonely, but he could have eaten the rat Animagus form of Peter Pettigrew in one bite if the man hadn't been careful. He should have. The wolfsbane kept him from killing anyone, but owing his, and the world's, safety to Severus Snape hadn't been pleasant. He'd bet that Fenrir Grayback would still find a path to evil though. He always would.

They brought over the door, and the dwarf felt his spine again. It ached, but he could hold his head straight. When he wasn't expecting it, Angua's mate took a long strip of bandage and wrapped it around his jaws, tying them closed. Angua growled, bumped the man with her shoulder, and tried to shove him away. But Remus understood. He would do the same thing, although he wouldn't expect a piece of cloth to restrain a wolf. One as weak as he was, though—yes, it would do. Good. He wasn't going to bite anybody even by accident.

"Slide the door over here." said Carrot. "Dorfl and Detritus, you move him." He looked at the horizon and the few pink clouds. "We need to be back at the Watch House in twenty-five minutes."

"I Could Carry Him Without The Board," the golem offered. Angua growled again much louder, and she insinuated herself between the wolf and Dorfl. Carrot reached down to her shoulder, stroked it, ran his hand quickly through her fur. "It's okay. He'll be alright. No, thank you, Dorfl. Support the spine with your hands. Keep it flat all the way down. Detritus, you have his neck and shoulders." The other Watch coppers stood back, ready to dart forward if there was sagging. "On the board now, please. One, two, three—"

Cherry monitored him with her hands as he was scooted. His heart was beating fast, but it had been beating fast ever since she got to him. Fast but still weak.

"Twenty minutes until dawn. Pick the door up now." Carrot instructed calmly. The soup had been poured into the water barrel, stowed on the door, tied down, as were the meat scraps, wrapped in bandages. The extra cloths themselves lay completely over the wolf to shield him from gawkers. "Fast as we can, smooth, no bumps. Go."

The Ankh-Morpork traffic wasn't heavy at dawn, but there could be no delays. They passed the Water Gate at the ten-minute mark. The Watch cleared a path, Carrot in front with Angua, Colon and Nobby on one side protecting Detritus, Reg and Washpot on the other, flanking Dorfl. Cheery swung her ax at the rear in case someone was terminally stupid.

Lana hadn't finished training yet. She'd never seen werewolves before a week ago, and still had a bit of silver jewelry under her uniform, but she was beginning to understand what Commander Vimes had explained about a multi-vital force. It was an honor to serve and protect a life, no matter how unfamiliar that life was, and if she needed to break a bone to do it, she would be delighted to swing her baton. But even before the wolf had been loaded onto the stretcher, Carrot had sent her to find Commander Vimes, on the double.

They breached the door to the Watch House as the sun broke the horizon, and carried him into a cell. It was the only place wide enough for a door and attendants around it, and they laid him down carefully as his limbs began to draw together.

Sam Vimes waited impatiently, feeling grim as the sky brightened, and as soon as—they were not pallbearers, no matter what it had looked like—Dorfl and Detritus withdrew, he surged into the cell. The werewolf was thrashing, his fur was withdrawing—"Blanket!" he growled, but Carrot was already there with one. Vimes was not at all sure what he'd do with a broken man, if the man even survived his change, but he'd agreed with Carrot. It was too far to take him to the Lady Sibyl, and they had Igor.

Igor was on the other side of the stretcher. He knelt quietly, one scarred hand on the shaking body.

"D'ya need anything, Igor?" The soup and meat were well to the side, but ready for use immediately.

"No, thir. I can't thee how much he will bleed until the thkin reappears."

The Watch Igor had never lost his speech defect and continued to pronounce some esses.

The curled figure under the blanket continued to shiver, whining in pain, then an odd pause, and it was screaming. The man was screaming. Vimes rubbed his forehead, and wished he could leave. He had heard Angua's quiet change this morning when she'd raced to the locker room of the watch house. She had left it closer than she usually did, but her change merely sounded like a grunt and two big slabs of meat thumping together. He couldn't imagine, did not want to imagine, what it would be like if she had to change with wounds all over her, seconds from dying. Angua returned from the locker room, and pushed past Vimes and Igor. She kneeled and wrapped one arm around the strange wolf's —strange man's—upper arms. She pressed the other hand onto his bare shoulder and upper back, and squeezed it. Her intent was to keep him still and calm so he wouldn't injure himself, Vimes saw. Her blond hair fell over her face and he couldn't see it. He wished he knew what Carrot thought, then realized he didn't want to know. The man himself came into the cell.

"Do I need to get his legs?," he asked. Angua nodded but didn't look up. Carrot sat down cross-legged on the other side and gripped the quivering hips with one hand. He leaned over the blanket to catch up the legs in a gentle but firm hold.

Igor moved quickly around Angua and Carrot and didn't disturb them. He pressed packs against the belly, which seemed to be bleeding the most, and then wrapped bandages wherever he could reach. Head, ears, neck—the man would look like a mummy at this rate, and Vimes cursed, rejected the thought.

At last there was only quiet sounds, possibly sobs. Vimes jerked his head up as Colon gestured to him, and he left the cell. Carrot stood up and followed them.

Angua bent over the stranger, hand on his head, pressed a bandage there. Still so much bleeding. They had to get more food into him. She was close to panic. Even a wolf could die. The man spoke his first words, and she repeated them. They made no sense. He said something again, a garbled whisper. "Tass." "Tnk." "T'n."

"What? Tell me. Talk to me." He garbled another word with a Tsss in it. As she bent lower he said, "Mff. M'wif. Wre's my fff." She still could not understand. "Please, I can't understand. What do you want?"

He opened his eyes for the first time and she saw pain that was not physical. "Where's Tonks? My wife. Whr's m'wife?"

Angua stilled for a moment, and only then realized how much she'd hoped for something which would never happen. She would never run free with a man—a wolf— who knew every part of her. Never run wild and howl with another wolf, and she hadn't acknowledged to herself how much she wanted it. She never questioned her bond to Carrot when she was wolf, and he'd help her this night without any hesitation. But sitting and lying next to another werewolf for hours—saving his life—she'd never had any similar experience. The only werewolves she knew were her own family. Wolfgang had driven away any others within Uberwald, those he hadn't killed. She'd tasted this wolf—tasted Remus—no hint of the ugly grey-red hatred that swirled around Wolfgang—she licked his mouth and chin as werewolves did in greetings, pushed chunks of food to his jaws. She hadn't smelled any other wolf on him, and while she was under the moon, that was all she'd needed to know. Time stretched oddly as a wolf. Even when he'd only been on the Disc a few hours she seemed to have known him forever, as she licked and nuzzled him. But he'd been unconscious and she'd not felt his bond to a human female until this moment.

She was a Watchman, a captain, and she already had someone who shared as much as he possibly could. Carrot was honest down to his core. She had not smelled any anger or rage while he was in the field or cell with them. Plenty of worry, even the fear his human expression didn't allow. She didn't know the strange wolf at all, despite their physical bond as beast to beast. She'd fought for his life; that was instinctive. He had other connections long before his arrival on the Disc, minutes from death. It was pure fantasy to entertain personal thoughts. One deep breath, and she spoke to him as a professional.

"I don't know where your wife is, but we'll find her. We need to put bandages on you, and get some soup into you again."

"She's prolly dead. Bellatrix. She prolly killed her." He continued. "They killed me. I'm dead. I must be dead. It was a killing curse."

"Who?"— The odor of fear poured of skin and the organs beneath—and the dense, green, oily smell had the undertone of octarine.

"Wizards!" she exclaimed. "He was attacked—" "Killed. We were killed." said a sad whisper. "Killed." Angua shook her head, turned to Vimes, who had re-entered the cell. "Wizards did this. Not ours. And he thinks—and—and he thinks they killed his wife." She could smell the man's grief as a deep purple-blue, and it mingled with her own grief for him.

Vimes gestured to her and she pushed herself up and walked out. The bundle under the blanket was still trembling but not crying.

"I don't think his wife is dead, yet."

"What? How could you?—"

"Because I got a runner two minutes ago. The Lady Sibyl has a strange woman, brought in last night by the witches. She was found in the post office coach yard, with unusual burns. They think she might be a witch; I don't know, but they smelled it too. Wizards. And they don't know whether she'll live. The witches and the Igors are still working with her. She hasn't woken up."

Vimes studied Angua as she leaned against the door to the cell. Every muscle slumped and she seemed ready to fall. He couldn't imagine the hours she'd spent lying in a cabbage field and wasn't surprised when she whispered. "We can't tell him now. He still has broken bones, he's got to eat more soup. "

Vimes looked at her with an expression she wasn't sure she wanted to understand. "We need to tell him now."

She shook her head. "No. He's still in such agony."

"He thinks his wife is dead; he can have poppy syrup as soon as we tell him. Angua, it's going to give him hope. He'll fight for her."

She nodded. He would never run with her. Wolves didn't look back. She was a Watch captain with a job to do and she marched into the cell.

"Remus—I'm going to give you soup again, and I have news for you. A woman was found on the other side of the city at the same time you were. We don't know her name yet, but she was wearing a long red coat, a black sweater, and black trousers. She is in hospital now."

Remus's breath stuttered, more irregular. Angua continued quickly.

"Also, she has brown hair but they tell me it flashed bright pink for a few seconds. I don't know—" and he was breathing deeper. Tears slid from his eyes.

"Tonks, 's' Tnks."

"You think it's your wife?"

"'S' her. Pinkkkk h'r." The man's lips twitched in a tiny smile.

Angua smiled even while tears gathered in her eyes. Vimes had been right, he needed hope.

"Good, good. They're taking care of your wife. But you need to get better before you can go to the hospital. You're too weak. Your bones are too weak."

The man started to nod yes and stopped from pain.

"Right then, this is what we have to do until you can sit up."

How could she get broth down him? He couldn't eat until he could sit up, or at least get his head up far enough on pillows. The two-legged form was very inferior.

She dragged a bowl of soup to her, careful not to spill, and sank down to sit on her heels. Worry started to pulse in her head, but this was the only way she could think of. She dipped her index finger in the soup, then slowly bent toward him, protecting it from dripping with her other hand. Some bread would help with this. They had some—she'd call for it in a moment.

"Here, open your mouth, I've got a drop. Just a drop. Let's get it in there. Yes, I think bread would work. Washpot!" she yelled. "Bring me some bread."

Remus didn't know how long he nibbled at soup-soaked bread. When his neck hurt less and he attempted to turn to his back, green mismatched hands gently supported him and made him comfortable. He could hear a quiet discussion going on:

"I think he'th had all the broth he can take, and he needth to rest."

"Igor, I barely got a cup down him, and he can't crunch any bones."

The first voice was patient but firm.

"The bone marrowth were cruthhed up, Captain Angua and that'th in the soup. It will do for now. Retht ith what he needth."

"Well—tell me as soon as he's awake."

"Yeth, Captain."

Angua and Vimes walked upstairs to the offices. Vimes was suddenly embarrassed because he remembered Angua and Carrot sleeping, and other things, in the little office they were passing. From what he'd learned from Colon, Nobby, Reg, Washpot—anyone present at the rescue site except for Carrot—Angua had been kissing this man all night long. Not actually kissing, but licking him on the mouth, they said, and nipping him.

He didn't often think about Angua as an animal. In whatever form she took, she was his officer, working for the Watch to apprehend criminals and put the fear of—Angua—in them. He knew that she chased chickens on full moon nights, often with the horrible Gaspode, but—he'd always thought of it as though she'd been on a bender, drunk all night but pulling herself together for work the next day. This though—she'd been wolf, in close fuzzy contact with another wolf—for hours. What was time like to a wolf?

If he'd been introduced to Sybil by having to kiss her for hours, desperately trying to keep her alive, instead of desperately trying to keep her alive by rescuing her from a dragon—the threat of death would provide the same kind of intense bonding, but the kissing—that would be different. He had no idea what Angua might feel as a woman, as a wolf—fortunately that was not his responsibility.

"Get some rest for a few hours. When you wake up, you're to stay here, liaise with him. Feed him if Igor isn't. Keep Igor from sewing on any extra fingers or ears. Get any information that might help us." As she opened her mouth to protest, a chilly voice spoke from the office ahead—his very own office!

"I'm afraid that Captain Angua must stay awake for a few minutes to explain the situation to me in detail."

He should have realized Vetinari had the news by now. The Patrician had sources everywhere.

"It lacked only you to make this perfect," he said. "I was going to report as soon as I gave orders to Angua and Carrot, and I don't understand why you came to my Watch house instead of waiting."

"Commander Vimes, need I remind you that in fact it is the City's Watch house, and—" The silken voice had undertones which irritated him.

"No, my lord, you do not need to remind me of anything, and in fact I do know why you're here. You want to see him. Well, he's sleeping, and Igor is very strict about visitors—he wants to keep his patient quiet—"

"I can be very quiet—" Now Vetinari was mocking him.

"So I've heard—you have to be quiet when you scramble up drainpipes at your age—" Flexible, he mused. Vetinari must be flexible as well as quiet, with whipcord muscles he hid under those black robes. Not that he would ever have opportunity or need to find out what was under the robes. Or even wanted to find out.

"I scramble up drainpipes, Commander, as you put it, about as often as you skulk around on stormy nights checking up on your people, for the same reason—" Vetinari's voice was light.

"So you're skulking around spying on me, is that right? How often - I don't have time now.' Vimes thought about Vetinari following him around, watching him. It wasn't a completely unwelcome idea.

At this point Angua snarled and bared her teeth. "Io's eyeballs, please stop it!"

Angua's voice trailed off at their combined outraged expressions, then she asserted, all in a rush,"Look, I do my best, Commander Vimes, your Lordship, not to bring my nose to work when I don't have to, uhhhh, anyway I spent all night trying to keep someone alive when I was frightened and thought he was dying every second. I had to force myself to be human for an hour in order to think. You do not know what fresh hell that is—werewolves are not supposed to be able to do that. But I had to so I could think about what he needed, tell Gaspode, and get him to run for me."

"I couldn't leave this man—I had to lick his nose and nip him on the face all night, keeping him awake long enough so I could shove food into his mouth—and I didn't have hands, so I had to use my mouth and muzzle to feed him. I didn't know I could do that. Have never heard of a wolf doing that. With baby wolves the mothers vom—never mind, werewolves don't do that and I wasn't going to start. I thought about it, though. Werewolves can heal very rapidly, they heal on their own all the time, but these—these were the most horrible wounds. I've never seen this, never heard of anything like this. I hope to all the gods I don't believe in I never see this again. It was obscene."

"Every single bone in his body was broken several times, plus his internal organs—you don't need to know. You don't want to know. I've fed him here in the Watch house with bread and bone soup, let him lick my fingers until Igor made me stop, and I've been soaked in to a strange male's—a strange man's—anyway—to a new person's rich personal odors, for hours. I've been muzzle deep in a strange man's fur and blood and musk, and humans don't even recognize pheromones—ummm—it's been a difficult night. The last thing I smelled from him was evil wizards. So I'm sorry to interrupt, and that's my report, your Lordship, Mr. Vimes. Please let me know when he wakes up."

She didn't wait to be dismissed, and staggered down the hallway to the old office bedroom.

Vimes looked at Vetinari, puzzled. 'I have no idea what's she's on about, do you?'

Vetinari's lip twitched. 'No, I couldn't imagine what she's thinking.'

When Remus woke up, a female werewolf was in his...cell? Why would he be in a cell? She had a thick yellow mass of hair and grim lines at her mouth. Her costume—was it a costume? was very odd—a uniform of leather, with a metal breast plate, a thick leather half-skirt with heavy brown trousers—it was all too worn looking to be a costume—She reeked of fear. For him, he realized, and wondered why. Then the dark tentacles of confusion withdrew from his mind.

"You were with me all night." He was still exhausted and wanted nothing but to let go and sleep. He forced himself to stay awake a second more. "You're—Angua? Angua, right."

"Yes, I'm Angua. You're Remus, right?"

Should he go with an alias? She didn't smell like a Death Eater—no one here did (wherever here was; his mind wasn't clear on that.) She hadn't been with them at Hogwarts, and he thought he knew every werewolf on their side, even those in Europe. He'd never heard of a blond wolf, and any woman this beautiful—could she be part Veela? everyone would know of her. But keeping secrets after the battle seemed ridiculous, and—

"I'm supposed to be dead. Dolohov hit me with a killing curse. Avada kedavra. Antonin Dolohov. "

"This person Dolohov attacked you?"

"In the battle; we were dueling. I thought I could take him, but he was too strong. I've practiced defensive and concealment spells for months. I've been hiding us, moving, haven't kept up with offense and dueling. I wish I had." He closed his eyes.

"Dueling. There is no dueling anywhere near Ankh-Morpork, but I don't know what there may be in Borogrovia or Mouldavia. And spells? You're a wizard?"

The woman ground her teeth together for a moment.

"I was the first to find you, and I'll swear every bone I smelled was broken in several places. You had cuts all over you—they went inside you—all through you"—a sudden intense angry smell from her—"but I've never seen any weapons that could do that." Her face was not changing to wolf but it suddenly looked more savage. "You smelled like wizards, but our wizards don't do things like this. Wizards did this do you?"

He kept his mouth shut.

"What is your full name, please?" Her shoulders were hunching up, like hackles rising, but she wasn't growling, yet.

He closed his eyes, exhausted. "Remus John Lupin." He was inside a jail cell in unknown hands. Despite Angua's night-long battle to save his life, she had other loyalties. He had to get Tonks away from here.

"You're a werewolf named Lupin. Right. Great alias. And where do you live, Mr. Lupin?"

"In Scotland."

"Scotland—never heard of it. Is it near the Agatean Empire?"

"I don't know what the Agatean Empire is. Scotland. Britain. The UK."

She was as insistent now as she had been last night, not letting him sleep.

"Britain, Britain…Mr. Vimes, I thought I knew every country on the Disc, but there is no Britain. I think he's raving. And he's talking about dueling, wizards dueling—he's making no sense." He could smell the fear again, and anger.

"Angua." The new voice again, with smells of red anger and gold loyalty.

"Angua, I think I might know. I don't know how it happened, but I think he broke through—I'll bet anything he's from Roundworld."

"What is that?"

With this last bit of confusion hanging in his mind, Remus fell asleep.